Photo by Tara Pastuszek
Millicent Millingford Moonface Magee
is three-quarters Cajun, one part Cherokee.
She stands six-foot-one, from her head to her feet
Some folks call her crazy, but I think she's neat.
She practices Voodoo with such a fine flair,
Waving her two spiral wands in the air...
Her hair stands on end and her tongue sticks straight out,
Though I haven't the first clue what that's all about.
With the wink of an eye and the tap of her toe,
She can conjure an image like Vincent Van Gogh,
Putting stars in the sky like a handful of pearls
Then swooshing them 'round in a flurry of swirls
She cures the sick and blesses the cursed,
But the temper on her is truly the worst -
Like a woman possessed, she'll pucker her lips
And blot out the sun with a solar eclipse
If she wiggles her bum, you'd best to beware
Close your eyes, duck your head and say the Lord's prayer
For she's just warming up, she's just getting sassy
And God help you, son, if she should become gassy
The winds she creates can blow a man down
Turn the biggest of cities into a ghost town
The weathermen call it a hurricane
But we know it's just Millicent, gone insane
Down in the swamps at the ends of the earth
We give her her space, for whatever its worth,
We don't tempt fate, we don't cross her path,
Unless we are willing to suffer her wrath.
So why do we do it? How do we endure?
And what is her secret? What is the allure?
Well that's obvious, I am quite sure you'll see,
For she's Millicent Millingford Moonface Magee.